Echoes
by museless22
Summary: Trapped in a universe that's not her own, Sam meets someone she hadn't expected.


**Title: **Echoes

**Fandom: **SG1

**Pairing: **Sort of... Subtexty Sam/Janet

**Word Count: **945

**Category: **Eh...Angst? Lil bit?

**Spoilers: **Some for Continuum

**Disclaimer: **SG1 and it's characters, etc. aren't mine. I just borrow them.

**Rating: **Rish, for language

**Warnings: **See above.

**Author's Notes: **Just a ficlet that came to me while watching Continuum. Love that movie. Though, honestly, the lack of exploring dead characters when there was such a clear opportunity bugged me somewhat...clearly...;)

Sam ran her fingers along the row of cereal boxes, focused on the labels with a burning intensity, as though the choice of brand might effect the fate of the galaxy. The other hand she kept on the cracked plastic handle of the shopping cart, gently propelling it along as she perused her options.

In actuality, she didn't give a damn about the breakfast food. Before, in what she still thought of as 'reality', loose as that term sometimes was, she'd rarely eaten the stuff. Back when her choices really did effect the galaxy at large, she hadn't had enough time for such mundane tasks as grocery shopping. The commissary had always been there, ready to serve, and who needed food anyway? Keep the coffee flowing and she could go for days.

Save the world? No problem.

Save the universe? Sure thing.

Decide which box of sugary cardboard she wanted to imbibe each morning, now that she had ample time for such rituals? Impossible, apparently.

Sam sighed and fidgeted with her glasses for the umpteenth time, she still wasn't used to them yet and suspected she never would be, and moved on. There was always, perish the thought, pop tarts. Or, maybe, she could just get a big box of jello cups. That never got old.

She was so engrossed in the shelves, wrinkling her nose at something snot like that called itself "malt-o-meal", that she didn't notice the other woman's cart until the crash of metal on metal jangled up her arm.

"Oh, sorry-" Sam's apology died before it could be fully formed, eyes staring over the thick black frames of her glasses in wide eyed shock.

She had never even considered the possibility, an oversight that now had her heart stuttering in place. It made sense, of course; In a world where they'd never had the Stargate, why should she be dead?

"Janet?"

Brown eyes that had been fully prepared to dismiss her unwitting assaulter narrowed to give Sam more thorough attention, a question mark forming in furrowed brows. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

She looked good, red-brown hair longer and darker than the Janet Fraiser Sam remembered. Healthy, whole, alive. And unmistakably her.

Sam swallowed hard, attempting and failing to pick her jaw up off the floor and stop staring. In this timeline she had never met the tiny woman who was now leaning against her grocery cart and staring at the blond like she was quite insane. At least, she assumed and somewhat hoped she hadn't. This reality's Sam had been dead for quite a while. How exactly would she explain _that_?

"No, I don't think so. You just reminded me of someone I used to know."

Janet seemed prepared to accept that explanation; Or maybe she just wanted to get away from the crazy lady. She smiled apologetically and they parted ways. Sam numbly added a canister of oatmeal to the small pile of goods in her cart and proceeded to the checkout.

She was loading the stuffed brown paper bags in her back seat when the brunette finally caught up to her, wearing the puzzled but focused expression the doctor had always adopted when faced with a particularly perplexing conundrum.

"How did you know my name?"

Sam blanched. "What?"

"My name. You said it. How did you know?"

A suitable response was not forthcoming. 'ESP' was on the tip of Sam's tongue but she got the feeling Janet wouldn't appreciate the joke. "Did I? Freaky coincidence."

Of course, Janet was smarter than that. Even without the bond of a seven year friendship between them she could still call Sam's bullshit. "I don't buy it. Who-" She was staring hard at Sam's face, through the heavy glasses and into the woman underneath with an intentness that made Sam shift uncomfortably. "Wait, I know you. You were all over the news. That astronaut…"

_The one that died_ went unspoken, save for in the widening of brown eyes. "Oh my god!"

Sam took a step into Janet's personal space, shooting a furtive glance around the parking lot.

Luckily there was no one around to have heard Janet's outburst. "Look, I think you're confused. I'm not her-"

Janet boldly reached out to pull away Sam's glasses, shaking her head. "You are. Your face was everywhere for weeks, how could I forget it?" She twirled the black frames between her fingers. "Superman, you aren't. But… How…?"

Sam squeezed her eyes shut. Now came the impossible questions. And probably a nice cell underground somewhere where her existence couldn't stir up any more trouble. "I'm really not her."

"But-"

Sam took the glasses back, the brief brush against familiar skin making her heart ache.

Echoes of things that had happened but _hadn't_ stirred in her gut. "Let it go, Jan. _Please_."

The familiarity and depth of feeling rocked Janet back on her heels, bringing the original question back to forefront.

For a moment, Sam flirted with the idea of telling her the truth. It wouldn't be so bad, having someone to confide in. Maybe, just maybe, she could get back a little piece of what she had lost. Pretend that Janet had never died, that she wasn't stuck in a world that wasn't her own. It would be nice. Probably even wonderful. She reached out, close enough to touch Janet's cheek but not making contact.

"Your life will be so much easier if you just forget you ever saw me."

The blond withdrew, leaving the other woman with a heap of confusion and an indefinable ache. By the time she shook herself out of it, Sam's car was already shrieking out of the parking lot.


End file.
